


Stealth Dad

by Emerald1



Category: NCIS
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Illnesses, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 07:34:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerald1/pseuds/Emerald1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:  Gibbs isn't a father to his agents, really, he isn't.  Except when he is.  A one-shot in two parts.  Yeah, don't ask.  You probably don't want to ask Gibbs either – unless you're in the mood to get shot.  Written as a birthday gift for Shellie Williams.  I hope you like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Stealth Dad

 

 

 

 

It was at least another six hours back to the Yard, assuming the weather cooperated and judging from the fact that the wipers could no longer keep up with the water, there would be no cooperation on that front tonight. Gibbs glanced over at his passenger. McGee had been the last one standing after both David and DiNozzo succumbed to the flu earlier in the week, but now it appeared to have caught up with him. Even in the dim light of the car, the flushed cheeks and damp forehead spoke volumes as he shivered and pulled his coat tighter around him as he dozed.

 

Decision made when he saw an exit, Gibbs switched lanes and started to slow down. At the bottom of the ramp he saw a sign for a local motel and turned in that direction. Just the quick dash from the crowded parking lot to the office had him drenched. The elderly man reading a book behind the counter gave him a knowing smile. "Decided to ride out the storm here?"

 

"Yeah, something like that. Guess I'm not the only one."

 

"It's a wild one out there, all right." Slowly lumbering to his feet, the other man reached for the keys hanging up on the wall. "Got either a king or a couple of doubles."

 

Gibbs felt his eyebrow climb his forehead as he laid out his credit card. He hadn't seen actual metal keys instead of a key card for a motel in years. "We'll take a double. Got a sick man with me, is there a pharmacy around here?"

 

"I'll give you a room in the back, you'll see a store across the way, the only one in town." Picking a key, he handed it over to Gibbs before taking the credit card. Laughing to himself, Gibbs watched as his credit card was run through a manual imprinter, the double thump it made taking him back to summers working at his father's store.

 

"Appreciate it." Gibbs signed the paper and took back his card and receipt as he pocketed the key. McGee hadn't stirred when Gibbs climbed back into the car, but Gibbs was concerned enough to not slam the door or rev the engine. Finding the room, he parked in front of it and went in to kick on the heat before attempting to wake McGee.

 

"Tim, hey, kiddo, let's get you inside." The awning over the parking strip kept him dry, but the wind was still biting and he wanted to get them inside the room.

 

Unfocused green eyes opened and looked around slowly before returning to rest on Gibbs' face. "We're not back at the Yard, yet."

 

"Nope." Gibbs had to grin as he steadied McGee and steered him to the room. "Good to see that fever hasn't totally scrambled your brain."

 

"Fever? I'm sick?"

 

Gibbs had barely had enough time to pull the bedspread back before McGee bonelessly sprawled across one of the beds, already back asleep. Gibbs fondly shook his head and went to work getting the younger man turned around and onto the bed properly. He thought about getting him stripped down, but decided to just pull off his shoes for now before making a run to the pharmacy.

 

Standing outside the motel room, Gibbs paused. He had the car keys in his hand, but he quickly realized that driving might not be the quickest way as his eyes took in the one way and divided roads that meant he'd have to go blocks out of his way. Even further, he realized, as he saw the local LEO's closing an intersection that was under water. On foot, he could just hop the short fence that separated the two parking lots. Decision made, he tugged his jacket collar up around his neck and took off.

 

He stomped his feet and tried to shake off as much of the water from his jacket as he could before entering the store. Judging from the towels on the floor, he wasn't the first wet customer of the night. Gibbs scanned the hanging signs and found the section he was looking for before moving away from the towels, much to the relief of the lone clerk.

 

At one time he could gauge a temperature with a brief touch of his hand, but he was convinced that knowledge had died with Kelly. A digital thermometer took care of that, and a bottle of Tylenol went into the basket for the fever. McGee had been coughing and sniffling, so a bottle of cough medicine was the next thing added to the basket. A box of tissues was next and on his way to the checkstand, Gibbs detoured to the paperback aisle and grabbed a book to read.

 

The clerk was a red-head and shamelessly flirted with Gibbs as she rang him up, but he didn't pay much attention. She smiled as she handed him his bag. "If you get bored after you get your kid settled I'm working until midnight."

 

"You're open all night?" There was something nagging at the corner of Gibbs' mind, something he'd forgotten, so it was good to know he could come back.

 

She let her fingers trail across his hand as she finally let go of the bag. "Twenty-four, seven. We only close for Christmas and New Year's Eve."

 

It was raining even harder and Gibbs sighed as he repeated the dash across the parking lots, this time with a bag held close. He cursed as a particularly deep puddle filled his shoes with water. Then swore when he saw the door to the room open.

 

"McGee, what are you doing our here?"

 

"Boss, where are we?"

 

"Hell if I know, some Podunk town. Come on, let's get you back inside." Gibbs snagged McGee's sleeve and Tim meekly followed him back inside the room. Having the door open had dropped the temperature, so Gibbs nudged the thermostat up another notch to compensate as he pushed McGee into a chair.

 

First order of business was to check McGee's temperature, so Gibbs dumped his purchases on the bed and dug through to find the digital thermometer. He pulled it out of the box, and resisting the instinct to shake it, shoved it under McGee's tongue. After a few moments, Gibbs realized his mistake and pulled it out to press the button. There was no reaction – no sound and no flashing numbers – so he dug out the instructions. The print was way too small for him to read and that's when Gibbs discovered that he'd left his reading glasses in the car.

 

Sighing, he pointed at McGee. "Stay put, I'm going back out to the car. Got it?"

 

Still not fully aware of his surroundings, McGee looked down at his hands. "Got what, Boss?"

 

Sighing again, Gibbs just held his hand up. "Just don't move."

 

McGee was starting to tilt, so Gibbs hurried. He found his glasses in the center console, but decided to grab their bags while he was out there. The awning didn't fully cover the car and he found himself standing in the rain again as he fumbled with the trunk, McGee's earlier complaint about the trunk latch now making sense. Just as he got the trunk open and leaned in for the bags, the awning's gutter finally overflowed, dumping a stream of icy water down the back of his neck.

 

"Shit." Gibbs instinctively straightened up, hitting his head on the edge of the trunk. "Damn it." He dumped the two bags on the pavement in frustration to slam the trunk shut, McGee's bag falling over in the process. Gibbs stepped forward and bent down to reach the handle, his glasses falling out of his pocket at the same time. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to stop his momentum quickly enough to not kick his glasses. Gibbs swore again as they skittered under the car.

 

Grumbling under his breath, Gibbs carried the bags over to the walkway, dropping them in front of the motel room door. Glancing through the window, he saw the chair was now vacant. "Crap." He rushed in, expecting to find McGee sprawled unconscious on the floor. The floor was empty, as was the room, however the sound of a flushing toilet told of the younger man's location.

 

Crisis averted, Gibbs went back out to the car and crawled under enough to retrieve his glasses. Glasses firmly in one hand, the two bags in the other, Gibbs went back into the room just as McGee came lumbering out of the bathroom. Gibbs caught him before he could get very far.

 

"Come on, let's get you stripped down so you can get into bed."

 

Tim looked totally confused as he stared over Gibbs' shoulder. "But I was supposed to do something." He was wincing and blinking in the light, so Gibbs turned off the overhead light, just leaving the bathroom light on to give the room a very soft glow.

 

"It's okay, McGee. Why didn't you tell me you were getting sick?" Now that he was really looking, it was obvious that this was not the first signs of illness in the younger man. "I'm used to DiNozzo's whining and everyone knows when Ziva's getting sick." That got a smile out of McGee, as Ziva David's sneezes were louder than her snores, but Tim still wouldn't look him in the eye.

 

A slight pressure on his shoulder dropped McGee down to sit on the edge of the bed, but he made no effort to undress himself. Instead, he looked to be at the end of his endurance and Gibbs quietly unbuttoned his shirt for him as he considered the three younger members of his team.

 

Tony grew up bouncing between neglected and pampered, depending on what his father needed from him at the time. Growing up as he had, he'd learned early on how to get the attention he so desperately needed. Ziva had a similar upbringing. Weaknesses were looked down on. She would never complain, never admit to being sick, but also never hid her symptoms, allowing others to 'discover' how sick she was. Tim was his enigma. Gibbs had always assumed that he was like Gibbs, never getting sick, but now he was realizing that probably wasn't the case at all.

 

Dropping the shirt on the foot of the bed, Gibbs pushed McGee down onto the bed and lifted his legs up onto the mattress before reaching for the waistband of his slacks.

 

"No." Tim's eyes flew open and he started to struggle. Gibbs let go instantly, but leaned into his view

 

"Easy, Tim, easy. It's just me, you're safe."

 

"Boss?"

 

"Yeah. You back with me?" Tim was shaking, but Gibbs wasn't sure if it was the fever or something else. Tim nodded and Gibbs tried to not make a big deal out of what had happened, tugging slightly on his pant legs to make his point. "Okay, you get yourself unbuttoned and lift up. I'll pull."

 

The new plan was successful and Gibbs tactfully didn't acknowledge how tightly McGee held onto his boxers as his slacks slid down his legs. Once that was accomplished, he tucked the bedding tightly around McGee, adding in the bedspread from the other bed. He touched the top of McGee's head. "I'll be right back."

 

Retrieving his reading glasses, the instructions and the new thermometer, Gibbs retreated to the bathroom where there was enough light to read. After washing the oily water off his glasses he found the printed reminder to pull the plastic tab before turning the digital thermometer on. It took a half dozen attempts before he could snag the tiny piece of plastic and tug it free, but then the battery made contact and the device lit up.

 

"Finally." Gibbs returned to the main room and shoved it under McGee's tongue, using his thumb to make sure the younger man didn't open his mouth. He still had his glasses on, so when it beeped he could read it – 103.9 – "Well crap."

 

Gibbs returned to the bathroom for the Tylenol, cough medicine and a glass of water, but this time he kicked off his wet shoes and socks, setting them in front of the heater. With luck, they'd be dry by morning. That done, he returned to McGee, nudging him upright. "McGee, you need to take some medicine."

 

McGee didn't fight him as he was lifted into a sitting position, but he didn't really help or fully open his eyes either. However, when Gibbs put the plastic cup of red liquid to his lips, he obediently swallowed. The pills were next with enough water to wash them, and the taste of the cough syrup, down.

 

Mission accomplished, Gibbs started to make a pot of coffee with the supplies from his go-bag. It was just about finished when McGee's phone began to ring. Not wanting it to wake the sleeping man, Gibbs grabbed the phone. He was going to stuff it under the mattress, but the caller ID showed Abby. Pressing the green flashing button, Gibbs hurried into the bathroom and partially closed the door. "Yeah, Abs."

 

_~Gibbs? Why are you answering McGee's phone? Is he driving?~_

 

"No, but he's sick and finally asleep."

 

_~So, you're driving and talking on his phone? In this weather?~_

 

"We're in a motel room to wait out the storm, Abby. I've got McGee medicated and tucked into bed, he'll be fine. Same cough medicine that DiNozzo had, he'll sleep like a baby and be fine in the morning." Gibbs glanced out at the sleeping agent, noticing that he was becoming restless.

 

_~Cough medicine?~_

 

"Yeah."

 

_~Liquid cough medicine?~_

 

"Well, yeah."

 

_~Was it red?~_

 

"Yeah, why? Isn't it all the same?"

 

_~Gibbs! He's allergic to the red dye.~_

 

"Crap." Moving instantly, Gibbs turned on the bedside light and tugged at the neck of McGee's t-shirt to see tiny red welts forming across his chest. "He's breaking out in hives."

 

_~You need to give him an anti-histamine, like Benadryl, and get a hydrocortisone cream to stop the itching. Otherwise he's going to be miserable for days, Gibbs.~_

 

Gibbs looked at the pot of coffee that was finished and waiting for him, and sighed. "Anti-histamine, hydrocortisone, got it, Abs."

 

_~Gibbs, you need to take care of him.~_

 

"I will, Abs."

 

_~I mean, he's been running himself ragged covering for Tony and Ziva while they were sick, and...~_

 

"I know, Abs." She bulldozed right over his assurances.

 

_~And he's really, really bad about admitting when he's sick and that means that he's probably sicker than...~_

 

"Abs, I already figured that one out. I've got it."

 

_~You've sure? I mean, I could drive to wherever you are and...~_

 

"Abby! I've got it." Gibbs was already putting his shoes back on, his bare toes curling at the chill. "Pharmacy is right across the parking lot. I'll be there and back before he even knows I'm gone." Not giving her a chance to argue any further, Gibbs ended the call as he slipped his coat back on.

 

The rain was still coming down in sheets as Gibbs jogged across the parking lot again. The clerk was thrilled to see him, but he paid her no attention as he went straight to the necessary aisle. Another customer was there and she made small talk as they reached around each other. "You've got a sick one at home, too?"

 

"Sick and having a reaction to the dye in the cough syrup." Gibbs opted for the liquid Benadryl, deciding that the fewer pills he had to shove down McGee's throat, the less the likelihood the younger man would choke. This time he read the ingredient list for the offending dye, but the grape flavor kept it pretty safe. A hanging display of ear thermometers caught his attention and the other parent nodded her approval.

 

"We use one of those now. It's so nice not having to wake them up to take their temperature." Recognizing the wisdom in that, Gibbs added one to his collection. Taking one look at his expression, the clerk rang him up without a word and less than ten minutes after he'd walked into the pharmacy the second time, Gibbs was on his way back to the motel. He did remember the location of the large puddle that soaked his shoes on the last trip and managed to avoid it, only to discover an even deeper one.

 

"Well, crap."

 

Arriving back at the motel room, Gibbs discovered that while McGee had not awakened, his sleep had been anything but peaceful. The bedspreads were on the floor on one side of the bed, while the rest of the bedding was on the other. McGee was on his stomach, sideways on the bed, his head hanging off the edge.

 

Gibbs shucked his dripping coat and draped it over a chair before toeing off his shoes, unable to stand the squishing sound he made as he walked in them. Next, he put one knee up on the bed and wrapped his arms around McGee, lifting and turning him until he was properly laying on the bed.

 

Tim's face was flushed, but Gibbs chalked it up to having his head hanging down, even though he was certainly warm to the touch, Gibbs' hands too chilled to tell more than that. Now that McGee was back on the bed properly, Gibbs took his new purchases and his reading glasses into the bathroom where there was better light.

 

The pharmacy only had the Benadryl in the children's version, but with more math than he'd used since his days as a sniper, Gibbs figured out the proper adult dose and poured it into the little cup. Returning to McGee, he shook the other man's shoulder.

 

Confused green eyes slowly opened. "B'ss... wh't?"

 

Lifting him slightly, he pressed the plastic cup against Tim's lips. "Drink."

 

Once that was accomplished, he laid McGee back down but nudged him again, needing him awake and somewhat aware. Holding the tube of ointment in front of McGee, he kept the explanation simple. "You've had an allergic reaction. I'm going to put this on the spots so they won't itch."

 

"Spots? Itch?" The eyes closed again, but there was a slight nod. Becoming more worried, Gibbs tugged Tim's t-shirt up and coated every spot on his chest and stomach before rolling him over to repeat the process on his back. By now the anti-histamine was starting to work and some of the smaller spots were starting to fade. It took a while, but by the time he was finished, Gibbs was certain that McGee was even warmer than before. A quick glance at his watch showed that it was almost time for his next dose of Tylenol so after washing the cream off his hands, Gibbs brought back another two pills and a glass of water.

 

Once that was done, Gibbs was ready for a cup of his now cold coffee and the book he'd bought earlier. All that was left to do was to check McGee's temperature again. Tim had settled on his stomach, buried in the blankets, but the side of his face was exposed. Pleased that he'd thought to buy the different thermometer, Gibbs padded back into the bathroom, barefoot. Picking up the box, he noticed the printing under the picture that he'd failed to read before

 

_Requires 2 AAA batteries, not included._

 

"Ah, hell." Resisting the urge to chuck the box through the window, Gibbs set it down and instead took the 'under the tongue' model he'd bought earlier. He tried to roll McGee over onto his back.

 

"Come on, Tim. Work with me here." He eventually got him rolled over and touched McGee's face to open his mouth. Instead of the placid response he'd been getting the last few hours, Tim's eyes opened in a state of panic and he began to fight, clamping his teeth down tight.

 

"No, no, no."

 

"Tim?"

 

"I won't... can't make me..."

 

Remembering the panicked reaction when McGee had awakened to Gibbs undressing him, the older man backed off for a moment. "Easy, Tim, easy. You're safe, nobody is going to hurt you, I promise." It took a moment, but McGee settled back down in the same position – on his stomach, buried in the blankets, his arm up around his face.

 

Resisting the urge to slam his head against the wall, Gibbs eyed his soggy shoes before trying to slip his feet into McGee's dry ones. Until that moment he'd never realized how much smaller McGee's feet were than his. Gibbs sat there for a moment, his feet partially wedged into McGee's shoes, looking between the heavy rain still coming down and the increasingly sick man on the bed. Sighing, he kicked off the dry shoes and forced his feet back into his wet ones before standing.

 

At this point he really didn't care about trying to avoid the worst of the puddles and just ran straight across the parking lot. The thunder and lightening were just the perfect topper to the day, but not a terrible surprise.

 

With the worsening storm, Gibbs wasn't as careful as he had been going over the fence and felt a tug. The wind and rain were too loud, even between the bursts of thunder to hear the fabric rip, but Gibbs was pretty sure this pair of pants had just been sacrificed for the cause.

 

It was after midnight and there was a new clerk at the register – one that wasn't impressed when Gibbs slammed the package of batteries on the counter. Half shaved head, Gothic clothes under the pharmacy vest, he snapped his gum as he rang up the item. "Anything else you need?"

 

Gibbs took the batteries and shoved them into his pocket. "If there is, I'm sure I'll be back again."

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

104.7 Gibbs stared at the numbers, not totally convinced that a reading taken from the ear was completely accurate. He cleared it and tried again. 104.8 Tossing it on the bedside table, he roughly shook McGee's shoulders to wake him. "McGee, Tim, come on, buddy, I need you to wake up. McGee? McGee, your computer's on fire."

 

That did it, and Gibbs had to dive out of the way to prevent a collision when McGee suddenly sat straight up, then fell back onto the bed.

 

Laughing to himself, Gibbs got the oral thermometer under Tim's tongue before he was fully asleep. This time the reading was even higher, 105.0 and Gibbs was getting worried. "Why isn't the Tylenol working?"

 

Tim rolled onto his side, snuggling down into the blankets. "Can't take Tylenol." He let out a sigh and was back asleep.

 

The niggling in the back of Gibbs' mind since his first trip to the pharmacy was getting louder. It had been years since he'd looked at McGee's medical history, but now it was ringing a bell. "Why not? Tim?" When he didn't get an answer, Gibbs wiped his hand down his face and climbed to his feet. Retreating to the bathroom, he called Ducky. The phone rang several times before a sleepy voice answered.

 

_~This is Dr. Mallard.~_

 

"Ducky, why can't McGee take Tylenol?"

 

_~Jethro, what on Earth...~_

 

"Ducky!" That apparently got the older man awake and going.

 

_~Timothy is allergic to Tylenol. Perhaps not an allergy in the truest sense of the word, but he has enough of a sensitivity to make it a medication that he should not take. Jethro, what has happened?~_

 

"What does it do to him?"

 

_~It raises his body temperature, it can cause him to become confused, hallucinate even, if he takes a high enough dose.~_

 

"Shit." Gibbs picked up the bottle and read off the dosage amounts, then gave the times each dose had been given. "His temperature's up to one hundred and five, Duck. How much danger is he in?"

 

By now Ducky sounded wide awake.

 

_~How long ago did you last take his temperature?~_

 

Gibbs glanced down at his watch. "Ten, maybe fifteen minutes ago."

 

_~Check it again, Jethro, and where, exactly, are you?~_

 

While he moved back into the main room and checked McGee's temperature, Gibbs explained what exit they'd taken and which motel they were in, along with what roads were closed around them. Finally, he heard a beep and looked at the reading. "It's stopped climbing, it's still at one-oh-five."

 

_~That's good, but you still need to get it down as quickly as possible.~_

 

"What do I use?"

 

_~Well no more Tylenol, certainly.~_

 

"Figured that one out on my own, Duck. Can he have aspirin?"

 

_~I'm afraid that Timothy has a sensitivity to that as well. I would recommend Motrin. He has taken that successfully in the past and it won't react to the Tylenol already in his system. Also, ice packs would be proper. Treat him as you would someone suffering from excessive heat, ice packs on his neck and at his groin, where the blood is close to the surface.~_

 

"Not sure that last one's a good idea, Duck." Gibbs moved back to the bathroom where he could talk without being overheard. "He's having flashbacks, I think."

 

_~Flashbacks? To what, might I ask?~_

 

Gibbs looked back out at the sleeping man. "There was nothing in his records, but I'm beginning to suspect that he might have been molested as a kid."

 

_~Molested? Our Timothy?~_ There was a pause as Ducky obviously thought about what he'd learned.

 

_~Do what you can, Jethro, without putting any undue strain on him, and watch his temperature closely. Despite the weather, if it climbs another half a degree, we may have to consider airlifting him to a hospital. Call me every hour until his fever is under control.~_

 

"All right, and Ducky?" He waited until he heard a response on the other end. "When we get back, I want a listing of every allergy, every sensitivity, McGee has. I want a print-out so I can keep it in my wallet."

 

_~Of course, Jethro. Keep me posted.~_

 

 

\---NCIS---

 

 

Trudging across the parking lot one more time, Gibbs didn't have to think about where the deepest puddles and potholes were, he'd learned their location by rote memory by that point. He was half way across the lot when he realized that he'd left a potentially hallucinating man alone with a hand gun. Cursing at himself, he double-stepped it back to the room only to find McGee sleeping in the same position he'd left him in. Just to be safe, Gibbs took McGee's SIG and holster and clipped them to his belt. It felt odd to have one on each side, but in some ways it was the most normal part of the night. Yet again, he took off across the parking lot.

 

The clerk was waiting for him. "Saw you turn around, you forget your wallet? My old man does that all the time."

 

"Yeah, something like that. You got plastic zip-lock bags?" Not slowing down, Gibbs was directed to the right aisle and he detoured to pick up the Motrin on the way. Back at the register, he also got the directions to the nearest hospital, just in case.

 

Returning to the motel, Gibbs had to walk around to the front to find the ice machine. Filling two disposable buckets, he wanted plenty for the long night ahead. He also went into the office and was given an additional stack of towels and washcloths before returning to the room. After getting the new medicine down the other man, his next order of business was to check McGee's temperature again. Gibbs grimaced when he saw the two tenths of a degree increase. "Damn it, McGee, don't do this to me."

 

Bedding was tossed aside while two Ziploc bags were filled with ice, covered with a towel and placed on each side of Tim's neck. Two more were under his arms, firmly against his armpits and another pair were placed at the back of his knees. When McGee started to fight him, Gibbs held his head still. "Tim, listen to me. You're all right, you're safe, no one is going to hurt you." Tim's awareness seemed to increase and Gibbs leaned close. "I won't let anyone hurt you, Tim. I give you my word."

 

That seemed to work and after Tim calmed down, Gibbs took one half empty ice bucket into the bathroom, filled it with water and grabbed every washcloth and hand towel he could find to soak in the chilled water. Tim was restless by the time Gibbs returned, but he stilled almost the moment Gibbs sat on the edge of the bed.

 

Cold compresses went on Tim's forehead, throat and arms before Gibbs checked his temperature again. It hadn't dropped any, but it also hadn't risen. Under the circumstances, Gibbs considered that a win as he added cold towels over his legs.

 

For the next hour, until his next check-in with Ducky, Gibbs didn't move from McGee's side. He fell into a routine as he re-wet the compresses and shifted the ice bags, draining the water from the melting ice into the bucket he was wetting the washcloths and towels in.

 

When the time came to call Ducky back, Gibbs checked McGee's temperature again as he dialed. Ducky was obviously waiting for him because the phone barely rang before he heard Ducky's voice.

 

_~Jethro, how is he? Has his temperature dropped at all?~_

 

"He's not as restless, Duck, and his temp is 104.9."

 

_~I had hoped for more, but I suppose as long as he's not getting any worse, it will do for the moment. I've spoken with one of the internists as Bethesda and he agrees with me that as long as Timothy doesn't take a turn for the worse he's better off staying put there tonight. An airlift would be quite dangerous in this storm.~_

 

"Understood, Duck."

 

_~That being said, I have called our friend at the Coast Guard and Agent Borin can pull some strings and get a Coast Guard helicopter for us if the need arises. Their crews are much more adept at dealing with severe weather.~_

 

Gibbs let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Ducky"

 

_~I will await your next call, Jethro.~_

 

Tim flinched when Gibbs replaced the cloth on his leg, obviously trying to get away from someone.

 

"Easy, Tim." His attempts to calm the other man were unsuccessful as Tim became more restless.

 

"No, no... I won't... don't... please..."

 

Gibbs moved closer to the top of the bed and cupped his hand around Tim's face. "He's gone, he won't hurt you anymore, Son."

 

"Daddy?" Green eyes opened, but there was no recognition in them. "I tried to make him stop, please don't be mad at me."

 

For a second, Gibbs couldn't breathe. Decision made, he leaned close and rested the side of his face on Tim's head. "I'm not mad, Son, not at you. Never at you." Remembering the few nightmares Kelly had, Gibbs kept in physical contact, murmuring encouraging words until Tim was asleep again. He watched the sleeping man for a long time before returning to his duties.

 

After another shifting of the cold packs and re-wetting of the cloths, Gibbs ducked into the bathroom to make another call, this one he didn't want McGee to overhear at all. Scrolling through his contacts, he found one number he'd hoped to never use – Penny Langston, Tim's paternal grandmother and his official next-of-kin. She was the one person who could give him the answers he needed.

 

_~Hello?~_

 

"Ms. Langston, it's Jethro Gibbs."

 

_~Jethro? Oh, no, is Timothy...~_

 

"He has the flu."

 

_~The flu? Heavens, it's the middle of the night, I thought...~_

 

"When was he molested?"

 

_~Excuse me?~_

 

"I know it happened, I need details."

 

_~No, you don't, and how did you find out about any of that? It's over and done with and I don't want Timothy to know anything about it.~_

 

Gibbs was almost too shocked to say anything. "What?"

 

_~He doesn't remember any of it and I want to keep it that way. As I said, it's over and done with.~_

 

"Not from this end it's not, so start talking. How can you think he wouldn't remember?" There was a pause, then a sigh, then she started explaining as if she were talking to a child which didn't improve Gibbs' opinions.

 

_~The man that hurt Timothy is dead, Jethro. My husband confronted him and when faced with a public arrest and trial that would have destroyed his family, he killed himself. Don't expect me to feel the slightest bit guilty about that.~_

 

Gibbs didn't feel the least bit bad about a pervert's death, even if he suspected there was more involved than a simple suicide. "And your grandson?"

 

_~There was no reason to burden him with those memories. I took him to a respected hypnotherapist and he took care of it. He remembers nothing of what happened.~_

 

"Hate to burst your bubble, but he does remember, at least on some level. He's sick, running a high fever. At first I thought he was hallucinating, but it's too detailed."

 

_~So he's not remembering on a conscious level? Then there's no reason to bring it up to him. It has not affected his life up until now. There's no reason to change that.~_

 

Thinking back over the shyness and fears that plagued McGee, especially in the beginning, Gibbs wasn't so sure. "What about his father, does he know?" Finally, Penny's voice became hesitant.

 

_~He knows there was an incident and it was handled. John is a good man and loves his son, but he has very high standards. Giving him additional details would not have helped his relationship with Timothy.~_

 

"Standards? Tim was a child, not some piece of china that got a chip in it." Gibbs pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing himself to calm down. Arguing with her wouldn't do McGee any good, and that was his priority tonight. "You know what? Don't worry about it, I'll take care of Tim."

 

_~You're not going to tell him, are you?~_

 

"Guess it depends on how much he remembers when this is over, but I won't lie to him." Gibbs didn't wait for an answer as he closed his phone.

 

It was time to shift around the ice packs and wet the compresses once again and Gibbs found the simple act strangely soothing, taking great pleasure in the unconscious trust Tim appeared to have in him. It was almost time to call Ducky again, so Gibbs did a final check on McGee temperature before retreating to the bathroom once again to make another call.

 

"Hey, Duck."

 

_~Jethro, how is he?~_

 

"He's sleeping, his temp is down another tenth of a degree."

 

_~That fever is being quite stubborn, but as long as he doesn't deteriorate, then we should be pleased. However, I sense that something else is wrong. What is it, Jethro?~_

 

"Called his grandmother, confronted her, and she admitted what happened to him, but..."

 

_~But what, Jethro?~_

 

"His attacker very conveniently committed suicide rather than face charges and then Grandma took him to a hypnotherapist to wipe away the memories. Guess it didn't work quite as well as they'd hoped. What do I do, Duck? How do I help him?"

 

_~Exactly what you have been doing, Jethro. Exactly what you have been doing.~_

 

Gibbs returned to the room and continued to care for his young agent. After another hour with no significant change he wearily sat down, closing his eyes briefly. The rain outside was finally beginning to slack off, meaning help could get to them now if needed. When he opened his eyes back up his internal clock told him that it hadn't been that long, but something was definitely different. He looked closely and McGee was drenched and very still.

 

"Tim?" Gibbs lunged forward and wrapped his fingers around McGee's throat. Under his hand, the pulse was slow and steady and the skin was cool. Not fully trusting his touch, Gibbs scrambled for the thermometer and waited for the reading as the early morning light began to lighten the cloud filled sky. Not fully trusting the reading, he checked again, using the other ear, but it was the same – 99.1 – not totally normal, but McGee's fever had certainly broken.

 

He sagged in relief. "You did it, kiddo. You're going to be fine." Gathering all the bags of mostly melted ice and the other debris of the long night, Gibbs retreated to the bathroom and made a quick call, not giving the recipient a chance to say a word at first. "Ducky, his fever broke."

 

_~Thank heavens, Jethro. All there is to do now is to make him comfortable and let him rest. I will let the Director know not to expect the two of you back until he's ready to travel.~_

 

"Thanks, Ducky." Gibbs closed his phone and ran a hand down his face. His team was in danger often, but this night had been entirely different. Dumping out the cold water, Gibbs used the two ice buckets as wash basins, filling one with warm, soapy water and the second with clear water. After the washcloths were rinsed with hot water and wrung out, he returned to McGee's bedside and began washing the sweat off of him.

 

Face and neck first, then his arms. Even though Tim appeared deeply asleep, Gibbs talked softly, hoping his voice would ground the younger man in the here and now and push the half-buried memories further into the background. He tugged Tim's damp shirt up and washed his chest and stomach before lifting him up to wash his back.

 

Tim stirred slightly, sighing and turning his face to nestle in the curve of Gibbs' neck. Gibbs paused, but Tim quickly settled and so he resumed the sponge bath. Before he laid Tim back down, Gibbs slipped the sweat soaked t-shirt off of him and tossed it to the side. Legs were next and although Tim frowned and shifted when Gibbs washed his thighs, he didn't fight. Not wanting to cause further stress, Gibbs decided that was a good place to stop.

 

The bedding was damp and chilled so Gibbs folded back the top sheet and blanket on the other bed for him. It took a minute to plan out the best way, but Gibbs pulled Tim back up to a sitting position and shifted him around a bit before sliding one arm under Tim's knees and the other around his torso. McGee had certainly slimmed down over the years, but lifting a grown man was never easy. Nevertheless, Gibbs took a deep breath and braced himself, lifting Tim in his arms. Making sure he was balanced enough that he wouldn't drop Tim, he turned and took the two steps necessary to reach the other bed. Once Tim was deposited on the bed, Gibbs dropped down on the edge to catch his breath before tucking him in. Gibbs' arms were shaking, but if he were honest with himself, it was more from relief than the physical strain of lifting the other man.

 

Smiling at the picture he made, Gibbs watched as Tim rolled onto his side and snuggled into the dry bedding. Although he joked about it from time to time, he never felt more like a father to his team than at that moment. He thought about getting up and making a fresh pot of coffee, but never did get around to it as he watched Tim's breathing and touched the side of his face every once in a while to monitor his temperature. It was about 0800 when Tim shifted and his eyes started to move under the closed lids.

 

"Hey, you back with me?" Gibbs leaned close and waited for McGee to wake up.

 

"B'ss? Wha' h'pnnd?" He looked around, obviously confused, but becoming more aware. "Where are we?"

 

"You were sick so we stopped for the night. How are you feeling?"

 

This was the nice Gibbs, the solicitous Gibbs that only came out when things were bad. Tim looked around, and saw the assorted drugs and medical supplies, the pile of towels in the bathroom, another pile by the other bed. None of it he remembered at all. Embarrassed and worried, he ducked his head down. "Sorry, I hope I wasn't too much of a bother."

 

"Hey." Gibbs reached out and lifted Tim's chin, forcing him to look up at the older man giving him a soft smile as Gibbs remembered the long, sleepless night. "You're one of mine. That means you're never a bother – not to me – not ever. You got that?"

 

Tim slowly returned the smile with one that lit up his entire face. "Yeah. I got it."

 

"Good. Go back to sleep, you've had a long night." Gibbs watched as the green eyes slid closed and the breathing evened out again before leaning back in the wooden chair with a ghost of a smile on his face. A long night indeed.

 

 

 


End file.
